Vektor (43 page)

“Team. I found the vehicles, and I’m heading back in your direction. I want to be on the road in less than five minutes. We have a lot of ground to cover.”

“Roger. We’re already moving up the path,” Misha said.

“How much gear is left at the boat?”

“Your pack and the spare with extra ammunition and explosives.”

“Got it. I’ll call this in and get a SITREP from base,” Farrington said and took off for the path.

He removed the satellite phone from one of his tactical vest pouches and called base to get an updated report regarding enemy movements in his immediate area and along his exfiltration route. He temporarily switched off his intrasquad radio so his conversation wouldn’t block his own team’s communications. Sanderson answered immediately.

“This is base.”

“Base this is Blackjack. We’ve reached checkpoint three. The vehicles are here as advertised. We’re a few minutes from stepping off. Any change to the disposition of hostile forces?”

“Unfortunately, the situation has worsened. Elements of the 122
^nd
Reconnaissance Battalion have arrived along highway 380 from Novosibirsk, on your side of the river. They’re spreading out along the road, leaving vehicle checkpoints all the way down to Barnual. The 21
^st
Guards Motor Rifle Division hasn’t fielded any units, but we’ve seen indications that they’ll put light armored vehicle platoons at border checkpoints. With access to the main roads, they’ll have these in position within an hour or two.”

“I’m more concerned with the reconnaissance units. Is this armored reconnaissance?” Farrington said, moving out of the way for his team to pass along the path.

“Negative. No signs of BTRs or anything like that. Mostly Tigers or lighter,” Sanderson said.

“The Tigers might as well be armor given what we’re carrying for weapons. We’ll have to avoid them just the same. Any good news?”

“No helicopter activity so far,” Sanderson said.

“That’s really good news.”

“So far. Intelligence analysts are pretty sure that most helicopter assets have been shifted west and north in response to Monchegorsk. With things simmered down up there, they’ve conceded that it might be possible for some of these units to have returned. Novosibirsk airport was home to a squadron of Mi-8 Hips, so you might have to contend with airlifted troops near the border,” Sanderson said.

“Wonderful. I don’t suppose anyone at the Pentagon knows where the Mi-28 Havocs are based? I seem to remember one of those in this neck of the woods a few months ago.”

“I can’t get a straight answer about that. I don’t think they have any idea where it came from,” Sanderson said.

“There’s nothing we could do about it anyway, so there’s no point in worrying about it.”

“Exactly. I’m going to send you all known positions of hostile units, based on communications and satellite imagery. The CIA is analyzing the areas relevant to your projected path. Make sure to keep your RPDA (Ruggedized Personal Data Assistant) handy. We’ll continuously update this information on the RPDA’s digital map. From what I can tell right now, you’re going to have a problem about two kilometers down Highway 380. Two Tigers are sitting next to the road you plan to take west. I’d avoid that route,” Sanderson said.

Farrington thought about the location of the Tigers with respect to their exfiltration plan. The improvised dirt road represented one of the few westerly passages they could use to travel over thirty miles per hour until they reached some of the small townships halfway to the border. Their other options lay south of the Tiger checkpoint or several kilometers to the north. Driving north would add too much time overall, forcing them to work their way west along less desirable roads. They could always head straight across Highway 380 from their current position and try to find a jeep trail that connected with the original road, but satellite imagery had steered them away from this option early in the planning process, and he’d be hard-pressed to force it on himself now. There was always another option.

“We’ll have to take out the checkpoint. I need to be on that road if we’re to have any chance of making it across the border before the helicopters turn back,” Farrington said.

“You can use the jeep trails along the riverbank area. They connect to other clearings in the trees and sort of leapfrog to a hidden area directly east of their position. You’ll have to cross over four hundred meters of open space between the Tigers and the trees, but that shouldn’t be a problem. They won’t be expecting you to come from the river,” Sanderson said.

“Sounds like you had this worked out ahead of time,” Farrington said.

“I knew you wouldn’t give up on that road,” Sanderson said.

“Am I getting predictable?”

“Just the opposite. You’re starting to get interesting. How is Sasha doing?”

“As long as we don’t have to travel by foot, he’ll be fine. We’ve started to administer morphine to dull the pain. I wanted to hold off so he could work a gun, but there’s no way he’d be able to withstand the SUV ride,” Farrington said.

“All right. Does it make sense to pack the team into one vehicle?”

“It makes a lot of sense tactically, especially with Sasha, but practically, I need to run two vehicles. It’s darker than shit out here, and we’ll be moving fast. Anything more serious than a blown tire would put us out of business with one vehicle,” Farrington said.

“See what I mean? I predicted you’d go with one vehicle.”

“Keep a close eye on those Tigers. We’ll be headed out in two minutes.”

Farrington lifted his assault rucksack onto one shoulder and Grisha’s pack onto the other, finding his balance before heading off for the vehicles. His own pack was heavy enough, filled with water, batteries, ammunition, rope, medical supplies, and a variety of grenades, but Grisha’s pack pulled him down even further. They had emptied Grisha’s rucksack on the boat and refilled it with ammunition magazines, Semtex and two Claymore mines, all of which combined to weigh far more than his own pack. He heaved the weight along the path and caught up with the team at the SUVs. Sasha was already situated in one of the vehicles, propped against the left passenger door by rucksacks.

“Change of plans, gentlemen,” he announced to the dark cluster of operatives.

“Base found something in our way down the road. We’ll have to do a little housecleaning before we can proceed west.”

Chapter 57

1:20 AM

Highway 380

Altai Krai, Russian Federation

Gosha sighted in on the rightmost GAZ-Tiger vehicle and adjusted the picture for maximum contrast. At 397 meters, the ATN Thor 6X thermal scope on his sniper rifle gave a crisp, high-resolution black-and-white digital image of the Tiger. He shifted his view to the second Tiger on the left and conducted the same drill, scanning the thermal image for personnel in the open. The gunners for each vehicle sat half-exposed in the roof hatch, scanning the highway to the north and south. From his few minutes of observation, he noted that they paid no attention to the dirt road leading to the river, which was fortunate. Farrington and the remaining two operatives had covered the open ground at a fast jog, counting on the slightly raised road to shield them from view by the gunners.

A ghostly white image appeared from the back of the vehicle on the right and walked toward the west, along the road Farrington insisted they would need to get out of Russia. The man stopped for a moment, facing away, and Gosha could tell that he was urinating. He was unarmed, which gave the sniper an idea.

“I have one target taking a piss to the west of the vehicles. No rifle. One target visible on top of each vehicle. This might be as good as it gets. We have a ten-second window of opportunity.”

“Let’s take it. Same plan as discussed,” Farrington said.

“Roger. Stand by,” Gosha said.

From his position in one of the trees, Gosha centered the reticle on the white image of the soldier standing behind the Pecheneg light machine. The machine gun represented the biggest threat to the three operatives lying on the other side of the road. If the gunner was quick to react, the Pecheneg’s high rate of fire could put them out of business quickly. Seva would focus his suppressed rifle fire on the second vehicle’s gunner, who sat behind an AGS-30 grenade launcher.

He relaxed his hand and started to apply pressure to the trigger. The 7.62X54mm steel jacketed projectile left the barrel while the crosshairs drifted over the target’s upper chest.

“Shot,” he said and shifted to his second target.

He didn’t relish the thought of shooting a man while he was taking a piss, but the man was dead either way, so what did it matter?

***

Farrington pushed himself up and sprinted for the Tiger. The bullet would take less than a half second to travel the distance, probably striking before he could fully raise himself off the gravel. He heard Seva’s suppressed AK-107 snap two short bursts, followed by the report of Gosha’s rifle. Through his night vision, he saw the gunner tumble out of the first vehicle. As he barreled across the two-lane road, he felt a projectile snap over his head.

“Target on ground is down. Sorry about the haircut,” Gosha said.

Farrington continued sprinting toward the vehicle several meters away, glancing briefly to his left to verify that the gunner of the second vehicle was no longer a threat. The soldier moments ago leaning against the grenade launcher had disappeared, so he didn’t break stride. He reached the Tiger just as a commotion broke out inside the vehicle.

Not wasting a second, he jumped onto the rear tire and grabbed the steel bar at the edge of the jeep’s roof, heaving himself onto the roof. He landed on his stomach and quickly rolled to his side to access one of the grenades on his vest. He tore the safety pin out of a fragmentation grenade and released the handle, throwing the grenade through the open hatch. A discordance of screams and panic erupted inside the vehicle.

Farrington stood and fired his AK-107 through the hatch, adding to the mayhem. After firing the extended burst, he jumped off the Tiger and rolled on the ground to face the jeep, emptying the rest of the magazine at anyone attempting to escape through the passenger doors. The grenade detonated inside the Tiger with a muffled thump that exploded the windows and knocked open the rear hatch. Nobody appeared to have escaped. The second Tiger suffered a similar fate less than a second later.

He quickly lifted himself off the ground and checked the other side of the smoking jeep. A mangled corpse hung upside down from an open door, its lifeless hands barely raking the hard-packed dirt below the vehicle. He didn’t expect to find any survivors. The effects of a fragmentation grenade in such a small space could be devastating.

“Tiger one is clear,” he announced.

“Tiger two clear,” Misha said.

“Copy. Let’s load up the bodies and get these vehicles out of sight. Gosha, keep an eye out for unexpected company on the road.”

“Already scanning. Looks clear.”

Farrington yanked the blood-slick body up by its vest and pushed it through the front seats into the back of the Tiger. The inside of the vehicle looked ghastly through his NVGs, still sizzling and smoking from the intense damage done by the grenade. He counted three bodies, including the driver, all blasted beyond recognition, much of them adorning the seats and equipment. He flipped the starter switch and the diesel engine roared to life, which was a small miracle after the grenade blast. He stopped for a moment and examined the back of the Tiger again, pausing to look up through the hatch at the overcast night. Instead of driving off with the other Tiger, he climbed over the dead driver and stood up through the hatch, examining the Pecheneg machine gun. He pulled the charging handle back and aimed down the road, firing off a burst.

“You got something?” Gosha asked.

“Negative. Just thinking,” Farrington replied, looking at the second Tiger crossing the highway.

“I’m thinking the same thing,” Misha said.

“That we just traded in our unarmored SUVs for heavily armored jeeps?” Farrington said.

“Exactly,” Misha said.

“Sounds like a plan. Let’s transfer all of the gear and get out of here.”

Six minutes later, they were packed into one of the Tigers, headed west along the improvised road at nearly 65 miles per hour. They’d lost nearly fifteen minutes dealing with the checkpoint, but they could make up all of that time in their new transportation. If anything, they might even gain time. Similar to the “Humvee,” the Tiger was a high-mobility, multipurpose military vehicle, equipped with a powerful diesel, turbocharged, air-cooled engine. Independent torsion suspension, telescopic shock absorbers and regulated-pressure tires gave it a top speed of 55 miles per hour over rough terrain and up to 90 miles per hour on the road.

The Tiger’s unyielding endurance for poor road conditions left Farrington confident that they could condense the team into one vehicle. He’d chosen the jeep with the grenade launcher because the weapon presented a capability they didn’t have organic to any of their weapons—long range high-explosive munitions. The Pecheneg machine gun would have been nice, but the ability to fire 30mm grenades at a rate of two per second would come in handy if they ran into any more armored vehicles. He could almost guarantee that these wouldn’t be the last Tigers they ran into out here. He just hoped they didn’t bump into any light armored vehicles from the 21
^st
Guards Motor Rifle Division. The 30mm grenades would be useless against those, along with everything else they carried.

Chapter 58

2:26 PM

CIA Headquarters

McLean, Virginia

Karl Berg removed his headset and turned to Audra Bauer, who was examining satellite footage on her two screens.

“They’re clear of the checkpoint, moving west in one of the Tigers,” Berg said.